


I’ll Walk With You Into the Wind

by Literallyliterary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Blow Jobs, Drarry, Facebook: The Pen15 is Mightier, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Gift Fic, Kissing, M/M, Moving In Together, POC!Hermione, Romance, Secret Santa, Smut, affectionate!harry, flat share, gay!ginny, nervous!draco, pregnant!Hermione, romione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literallyliterary/pseuds/Literallyliterary
Summary: Draco needs a flatmate, and Harry has big plans for Grimmauld Place. Features misunderstandings, running through the streets of London, a baby, and a happy ending.A Secret Santa fic for my dear fellow Potterotic! Happy Christmas love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 29
Kudos: 116
Collections: Pen15 is Mightier Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raven_fair_slytherclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_fair_slytherclaw/gifts).

CHAPTER ONE

_Friday May 5th, 2006_

“It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird.”

“It’s weird, and you know it.”

“You too, Hermione? I thought you’d understand.”

“No, Harry. It’s weird.”

“See?”

“Shut it, Ron. It’s not weird.”

Harry drained the last of his pint of beer and glared at his friends across from him at the high top table in their favorite pub. Hermione was sipping a glass of water and resting a hand on her very swollen belly, and Ron had his arm around his wife. They were expecting their first child to arrive any day and Hermione refused to let that stop her from working full hours every day and keeping up with their Friday drinks nights, even if she hadn’t been able to have a beer with them in some time. She looked down her nose at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Harry, we’re your best friends. We’ve known you for so many years, so trust us that when we say it’s weird, you know that it’s weird.”

“It’s not! It’s just a flat share.”

“With Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy.” Ron chimed in, “That Malfoy. The one who tormented you for years. The Slytherin git who made your life miserable for almost seven years.”

“That was a long time ago, Ron. Even you have to admit that he’s a different man now.”

That was an understatement. Harry had watched over the last eight years as Draco Malfoy went from the underweight, terrified teenager he had been at the end of the war to the confident, helpful, even _moral_ man he was now. Draco now worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with Harry, though Harry was an Auror and Draco was in administration, they worked closely together often to work on new and effective ways to catch and rehabilitate criminals.

-

At first, Harry hadn’t liked to admit that he enjoyed working with Draco, he held onto his childhood grudge for far longer than he cared to admit. Though he had testified at Draco’s trial and helped reduce his and his mother’s sentences by recounting their efforts in saving his life and helping defeat Voldemort, when Draco had become his coworker he hadn’t accepted it easily. It had taken a long time before he had even been able to say hello to him in the hall, even longer before he would look him in the eye for more than a minute, and had only recently started calling him Draco instead of Malfoy.

They had been working closely on a case about one of the last rogue Death Eaters together, staying up until ungodly hours of the morning, sharing takeout Chinese and shucking their robes and lounging in their Muggle clothes. Harry had been surprised to see that Draco wore dark, tight Muggle jeans and soft looking jumpers under his Ministry robes. The two of them were lounging around Harry’s office when Draco had spoken out of the blue.

“You know, you can call me Draco. We’ve known each other since we were eleven after all.”

Harry had blinked dumbly before responding, “Er, yeah. Of course. Draco. Yeah, that’s good. I mean, not good. Not _not_ good I mean. Fuck. Sorry.”

To his surprise, Draco had laughed, “You’re really daft sometimes, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Just call me Harry. You’re right, it’s been too many years of surnames.”

Draco had nodded, then they had gone back to work in silence. It was strange, but nice, and their work had improved. Once they were on a first-name basis, their friendship had grown quickly. Harry was surprised to learn that Draco had a wicked sense of humor and a love of Muggle sweets and amazing taste in music. They had taken to having lunch a few times a week and though they mostly talked about work and other superficial topics, Harry nearly considered Draco to be a friend.

Weeks after their project ended, Harry was sitting with Draco at lunch when Draco had dropped a huge question on him.

“Harry, I need a flatmate. Are you by any chance looking for a new place to live?”

Harry had gaped at him for a long moment. He wasn’t looking for a new place to live, not necessarily. After the war he had redone Grimmauld Place, taking out all of the dead elf heads and that horrible Black family tapestry. A few coats of paint and some lightweight curtains and the house was as good as new. But Harry still felt like a stranger in the big old house, there were too many rooms and too many memories. He hadn’t considered moving out, not until Draco had asked him to move in with him.

Draco blushed and stammered out an apology, “Sorry, I mean. I know it’s a little out of the blue, but I’m being kicked out of my flat and I was looking at some places a little closer to work but they’re mostly two bedrooms and too expensive on Ministry salary. And I thought that maybe if you wanted-”

“I’m in.”

“Pardon?”

“I said I’m in. I really could use a change of scenery.”

That was the first time Harry had seen a true, genuine smile on Draco Malfoy’s face, and it was the first time (that he was willing to admit) he thought that Draco Malfoy was really an incredibly handsome man.

-

“It’s going to be just fine,” Harry said as he sat back down with his fresh beer, “It’s not going to be weird. We already found a place that is perfect for both of us, it’s really close to work and has a perfect kitchen that I’m excited to use.”

Ron rolled his eyes and took another drink of his beer, “Whatever mate, I don’t know why you feel like you need to move out of your house, but it’s your fucking life I guess.”

Hermione nodded and smiled at her husband, “That was… well put, Ron.”

Harry snorted into his beer and Ron threw a rolled up napkin at his head. The three laughed and drank into the night.


	2. Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

_Monday May 8th, 2006_

Monday morning found Harry sliding into work almost thirty minutes late dripping wet and cursing, scaring the poor department receptionist out of her skin.

“Auror Potter, what happened to you?”

“It’s pouring rain out, Camille! And my umbrella charm stopped working right under a storm gutter.” He finally extricated his wand from his back pocket (a bad habit that even losing Moody hadn’t broken) and cast a drying charm on his robes. He sighed with relief.

“Any messages?”

Lots of messages, as always. The Head Auror needed to see him that afternoon, Hermione wanted to confirm dinner plans at the Burrow, Minister Shacklebolt wanted access to a file… the list went on and on. Harry listened to them all and felt a weight settle on his shoulders that he hadn’t felt the entire weekend, the stress of his job so blissfully chased away by time with the Weasleys, packing his books, and charming the kitchen clean. He groaned under his breath, but Camille heard him.

“Are you alright Auror Potter? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch a Healer.”

“I’m fine. I just-” he cast his eyes around the room to come up with an excuse, “Er, I forgot to… water my plants. At home. I’ll have to do it tonight.” He strode quickly to his office door and cast Camille an apologetic smile, “Have to go, lots to do.” And without waiting for a response, he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it heavily, eyes shut.

“Your talent for making up excuses on the fly remains your finest quality.”

Harry groaned again, “How did you get in here, Draco?”

He squinted one eye open to get a look at the blonde who was sitting in Harry’s desk chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed neatly at the ankles. His Ministry uniform robe was folded perfectly on the desk and his arms were crossed at his chest, which made the tight white linen of his shirt pull across his broad shoulders. He looked perfectly put together, as always.

“Your security charm is dismal. I barely even had to try to open the door, it practically begged me to come in.”

Harry went to Draco and stood in front of him, “You’re in my chair.”

Draco smirked and got to his feet. Because of where Harry had stopped, when Draco stood he was only a few inches from Harry as he got to his feet, and since he had nearly six inches of height on Harry, Draco loomed over him, still smirking. Harry tilted his head back to glare at the taller man and found himself locked in the steel-grey eyes of his former nemesis. He hadn’t noticed before that Draco’s eyes were clearly from his mother’s side, the grey was nearly the same color as Sirius’ had been. Harry blinked with surprise and took a step back, gesturing for Draco to pass him so he could take the other chair in the room. An indecipherable look crossed Draco’s face but it was gone before Harry could say anything, so instead he tossed his uniform robe sloppily over the back of the chair and sat down hard.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company so early in the morning?”

“If anyone asks, I was here delivering a message from administration about the shoddy state of your paperwork. Your handwriting looks the same as it did when you were eleven and the parchment is always crumbled in some way.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Harry snorted out a laugh, “So you’ve delivered your message, what else are you here for?”

“I wanted to talk to you about this weekend. Are you still planning to move on Saturday?”

“I am, I started packing yesterday.”

“You _started_ yesterday? Are you even going to be ready by Saturday?”

“Of course I am, I’m not bringing a lot with me. I resent that you don’t trust me to get it done.”

“Like I said, your paperwork is always sloppy and you don’t even take care of your work robes. Forgive me if I assume your possessions are similarly scattered and unorganized.”

“I don’t actually own a lot of things,” Harry said nonchalantly as he started digging through his desk for a quill, “It’s a side effect from living in a cupboard for so long. You learn to live like a minimalist.”

He found his quill and made a little ‘aha’ sound and emerged from his desk drawer to a concerned look on Draco’s face that disappeared quickly. Draco cleared his throat, “I’m sorry. Forgive me. Hearing you talk so casually about living in a cupboard is just a bit of a shock.”

“Surely I’ve told you about the Dursley’s house?”

Draco nodded but said nothing.

“It’s alright, I understand. Hermione is always trying to get me to ‘acknowledge past traumas’ and ‘work through the pain’ so I’m trying to be more upfront about my past. I won’t bring it up again if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that,” Draco sat forward and gripped the edge of the desk between them so hard his knuckles turned white, “I spent so many years making your life miserable because I thought you were some spoiled brat, and the whole time you were living like a house elf and learning how to live on nothing. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Draco, it’s fine. We’ve talked about this.” And they had, several times. They both had a lot to apologize for and explain to each other, and they had done so over late nights in the office and many containers of takeout. Harry had learned about the horrible parenting of Lucius Malfoy and the toll of having Voldemort living in Draco’s house, and had apologized for the _Sectumsempra_ curse. Draco had shown genuine remorse over and over again about all the bullying he had put Harry through and learned about the cupboard and Harry’s childhood. It was sharing these stories back and forth that had really cemented their friendship and was a major reason Harry had agreed to live with him.

“It’s alright, it’s all in the past. The only good thing to come out of those years is that I’m an excellent cook. And I really like to cook. So we can order less takeout and eat at home far more often.”

Draco got quickly to his feet and put his robe back on, “Home. I guess it’s bizarre to hear you say it. I have to go back to work, we can talk later.”

Harry was taken aback by the abrupt change in tone and Draco’s sudden departure, “Oh, alright. Have a good one.”

Draco left without another word, and Harry sat back in his chair, confused by a million things running through his head. For the first time since he had accepted the proposal, he wondered if moving in with Draco was going to be a huge mistake.


	3. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

_Monday May 8th, 2006 (later)_

“Oh Harry dear, you look so peaky. Were you out in the rain today? Come inside right now and get warm.”

Molly Weasley’s hugs were as warm as ever, though the grey in her hair had crept in and she moved slower than Harry remembered. He smiled indulgently down at the woman who had been like his mother for so many years. She was going on and on about his health and fixing him a cup of tea with a splash of Pepper-Up potion and soon Harry found himself shoved onto a sofa next to Ginny, who held a similar cup of tea that smelled strongly of the same potion.

“Ginny has been out in the rain as well, catching her death. I don’t know why your coaches and captains kept you training on a day like today, if the Harpies lose their next match I’ll know exactly why.”

“We’re fine, Mum.” Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry, who bit back a laugh.

Molly huffed and shuffled back to the kitchen, muttering about ungrateful children.

“Hey Harry.”

“Hi Ginny. How’s the team?”

Ginny played Chaser professionally for the Holyhead Harpies, and she was brilliant. Harry had season tickets every year and went to as many matches as he could with his demanding Auror schedule. The Harpies had consistently been in the top three in the league for the past four or five years, even winning the league in 2005.

“They’re great, it’s going to be a great season. I wish the International break would be over so Megan can stop playing for Germany and come back.”

“How is she?”

Ginny smiled and blushed and Harry elbowed her in the ribs until she laughed, “Alright, she’s good. We’re good. We’re really good.”

Harry smiled softly at his ex-girlfriend and put his arm around her, pulling her in for a side hug.

They had split the summer after the war ended, when things were complicated and scary and Ginny had come to him with the huge bombshell that they needed to break up because, in her words, “I’m super gay and I think you might be as well.”

(All these years later and Harry still hadn’t confronted the second part of her statement. It just hadn’t ever felt like the right time.)

Ginny on the other hand had fully embraced her new life and had dated a handful of beautiful women over the years, most recently Megan Lutz, the dark haired, dark skinned, German born Keeper for the Harpies. Though it had taken Harry some time to come to terms with ending his first real relationship, he was genuinely happy for Ginny.

“You’ll have to make the English team next year so you can go on the road too. I read about the match against Russia, Megan played really well.”

Ginny blushed again, “I’m really proud of her. I really like her, Harry. It’s terrifying.”

“Ginevra Weasley, scared? Of a woman? I never thought I’d see the day.” Ginny stuck her tongue out at him and pinched his armpit as she wiggled out from his embrace. They laughed loudly, and only laughed harder when Ron and Hermione came in from the other room.

“What’s so funny?” Ron said through a mouthful of sandwich.

“Mum’s going to go mental if she sees you eating that sandwich before dinner, Ronald,” Ginny teased before leaping across the room to take the sandwich from her brother and ripped a huge bite from it with her teeth. While the two wrestled for possession of the sandwich like children, Hermione lowered herself onto the couch next to Harry, groaning as she finally got her spine to loosen up.

“Don’t get pregnant, Harry.”

Harry laughed, “I’ll try.”

She closed her eyes and smiled, then leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder. He put his arm around her and rubbed her back and she moaned appreciatively.

“Not long now, Harry. Then you’ll have a new little niece to look after. Maybe she can come visit you and Malfoy in your flat sometime.”

“That was the least subtle way you’ve ever changed the subject.” Harry chuckled and dropped a kiss to Hermione’s forehead.

“Subtlety is for politicians, not lawmakers, you know I prefer to be direct.” Harry nodded and took a sip of tea right when Hermione decided to continue, “Are you and Malfoy seeing each other?”

Harry coughed and the tea flew out his nose. The Pepper-Up potion seared his nose hairs and he blew out steam from his nostrils and ears both. He howled in pain and coughed even harder. Hermione was slapping him on the back and Ginny and Ron were rolling on the floor with laughter. After a moment the worst of the pain had subsided and Harry shot his red-haired friends a glare.

“Real big help, you lot. So glad I trust you both with my life and depend on you in a crisis.” This of course only made the youngest Weasleys laugh louder, and even Hermione let out a chuckle.

They were interrupted by the call to dinner and Harry stood to help Hermione off the couch.

“So?”

“What?”

“Are you?”

“No. We’re not…like that. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even like blokes.”

“But you do.”

“Hermione, please drop it. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it. I’d rather think about how I’m about to be an uncle despite never having had any siblings.”

“You’re my brother, Harry. You’ve always been my brother. And you’re going to be Uncle Harry to this little girl as soon as she decides to show her face, which better be soon.”

Hermione shrugged and held her hand out to her waiting husband, who kissed her palm before lacing his fingers with hers. Hermione smiled and Harry was struck, not for the first time, by the love that surrounded the two of them constantly. They were so easy with each other, yet always aware of each other, as if they moved in orbit. Harry felt a familiar pang of longing at the sight of his best friends walking hand in hand out to the backyard to join the rest of the Weasleys for dinner. For some reason, Draco’s face popped into his mind, the warmth of his rare smiles, the laughter in his eyes. Harry pushed him out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about what that meant. It just wasn’t the time.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

_Tuesday May 9th, 2006_

Harry was halfway towards Draco’s table in the Ministry cafeteria before he thought to be awkward about it. They always ate together at lunch on Tuesdays but for some reason, Harry was feeling strange about it. Hermione’s questions the night before were bouncing around in his brain and wouldn’t leave. And then Draco was looking up at him and not-quite-smiling as he always did and Harry’s stomach did a somersault without permission. His step faltered but he pressed on, Gryffindor courage kicking in. When he sat across from Draco he didn’t know what to do, what to say, as if all of their efforts to become friends meant nothing. He chose to say nothing and tuck right into his lunch.

After a few minutes of silence, Draco sat back and crossed his arms across his chest. He looked so like he had when he was in Harry’s office that Harry blinked in surprise.

“What?” Harry asked through a mouthful of food.

“Oh so you can speak.” Draco sneered, looking as close to Hogwarts-Draco as he ever had.

“What?” Harry asked again after swallowing, “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been sitting here shoveling food into your mouth and you didn’t say anything, not even a ‘Hello,’ why are you acting so strange?”

“I’m not acting strange,” Harry lied, “I’m just hungry.”

Draco nodded but said nothing, only took another bite of his lunch. Harry squirmed in his seat.

“Hello.” Harry tried with a weak smile. Draco snorted.

“Nice, Potter.”

“Back to Potter are we?”

“When you treat me like a stranger, then maybe we are.”

“I don’t know why you’re being a twat Draco, but I’m just trying to eat,” Harry snapped.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They ate in silence a little longer before Harry spoke again, “You acted strange first, you know. Why did you leave so suddenly yesterday?”

“Did I?” Harry raised an eyebrow and Draco sighed, “Alright you’re right. It was just weird hearing you call a flat we’re sharing ‘home.’ I haven’t had a place I’ve called ‘home’ since Voldemort took over Malfoy Manor. I tend to think of places as transitory, and you startled me.”

Harry nodded, “It’s fine, Draco. I understand completely. I didn’t know what ‘home’ meant until Hogwarts. Even now, it’s not the same.”

Draco smiled softly and Harry’s stomach flipped again, “You do understand,” he cleared his throat, “So how’s the packing going?”

Harry groaned and ran a hand over his face, “I didn’t get anything done yesterday. I was at the Burrow for dinner and went right to sleep.”

“Harry,” Draco admonished, “You’re absurd. You know you’re not going to be done in time.”

“Maybe I need help,” Harry said before he could stop himself.

“I could help.”

The men looked at each other a moment, then Harry smiled.

“It’s good you’re coming over. You can look around at what I have at my place and figure out what we should take to the new flat.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a lot of things?”

“I don’t, but I have plenty of Sirius’ things,” he slapped his forehead in a sudden realization, “There might be some Black heirlooms among them, things you might want! I can’t believe I haven’t had you come look through them before.”

“You have Black heirlooms?” Draco’s eyes narrowed, “Where are you living?”

“At Sirius’ house of course.”

-

_Later that night_

Draco was late, which was unusual for him. Harry was sure they had decided on seven in the evening, but it was nearly ten minutes past and the bell still hadn’t rung. He thought back on the directions he had written for Draco and hoped that he had written it clearly enough for Draco to find the place through the Fidelius Charm. Harry got to his feet and went to the front door. Maybe Draco was stuck outside.

He threw the door open and sure enough, Draco was standing on his stoop. Harry was about to apologize for not giving Draco access when he realized Draco was safely within the boundaries of the Fidelius.

“Draco? Why are you just standing there?”

Draco didn’t respond, he just stared ahead and walked into the house, brushing past Harry like he wasn’t there. Harry spun on his heel and followed the taller man into the house but almost ran into his back, as Draco had stopped in the middle of the entryway.

“Where is she?”

It took Harry a moment to realize that Draco was looking at the wall where Walburga Black’s portrait used to hang, “Oh, I finally managed to break the charm that was holding her up, then right after Kreacher died I set her on fire. It was immensely satisfying, but she screamed something awful.” Draco was still standing facing away from Harry, but his shoulders had tightened and Harry could see that something was wrong. He walked around Draco so he could look him in the eyes, but Draco’s face was carefully blank.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Draco asked in a hollow voice.

“Tell you what?”

“That you lived in this huge house and chose to live with me anyway?” Harry opened his mouth but Draco cut him off, his voice growing steadily louder, “Were you ever going to tell me that you were living with me for a lark? That you had so much damned money lying around that you could afford to keep a house in London and also share a flat with your childhood bully? For what reason? To laugh at how far I’ve fallen?”

“Draco, what are you-”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were living in my mother’s family’s house?” Draco advanced on Harry, making him step back. He hadn’t seen Draco so angry in years.

“I- I don’t know. It never occurred to me.”

“Of course it didn’t.” Draco sighed, “It wouldn’t have. You don’t think about me enough for that to ever cross your mind. I see that now.”

Draco turned and crossed to the door, but Harry called after him, “Draco, we could live here if you want. It’s a little far from work but we could just move you in here. There are plenty of rooms.”

Draco shook his head, “That’s not what- that’s not why I’m angry. I’ll see you around, Harry.” He stepped outside and Disapparated, and Harry’s heart ached to see him go.


	5. Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE

_Thursday May 11th, 2006_

Harry hadn’t seen Draco in two days, and it was killing him. He had no idea how much he looked forward to Draco’s presence at lunch or when he went to administration to drop off paperwork. Everywhere he looked, Draco was nowhere to be seen.

Harry had spent Tuesday night going over in his head all the Draco had said. He had searched back in his memories and realized that he hadn’t ever mentioned to Draco where he was living, even when Draco had asked him to move in with him. Harry had berated himself for that for hours while throwing random things into boxes in the worst attempt at packing the world had ever seen. He understood why Draco was angry. He should have offered the house when Draco mentioned he was being kicked out of his flat. It made perfect sense, but Harry was so ready to be free of the memories in Grimmauld Place that he had agreed without even thinking about it. It wasn’t fair to Draco that he hadn’t been forthright with him, and he wanted to apologize, but Draco wasn’t at work Wednesday or Thursday.

Harry pushed a stack of parchment to the side of his desk and wiped a hand over his face. He needed to take a walk.

He sped quickly past Camille at the reception desk and out into the rest of the Ministry. He took the elevator up to the Atrium and stood in front of the fountain, looking at the new statue they had erected there. It was unlike its predecessors as possible - marble figures of humans and Magical creatures alike danced together around a jet-black obelisk carved with the names of everyone who had died in the first and second Wizarding Wars. Harry had been able to find his parents, Sirius, and Remus and often went to look at them when he needed to clear his head. He tossed a handful of Knuts into the water. The donations all went to St. Mungos still, and Harry was happy to give and give often.

A voice like a silver bell rang out, calling his name from across the fountain.

“Harry! Harry Potter!”

Very quickly, Harry found the source of the voice and waved. Luna Lovegood-Scamander danced around the edge of the fountain and into his arms for a breathless hug.

“Oh Harry, I’m so glad to see you today. I was drawn here to this fountain at this time for just this very reason, I’m positive.” Luna was wearing soft robes of deep purple that swirled around her feet and trailed behind her like a ball gown.

“It is wonderful to see you, Luna. How are you? How’s Rolf?”

“We’re both very well, thank you. We’ve just done a few weeks guest teaching the OWL and NEWT Care of Magical Creatures classes at Hogwarts. Rolf is such a wonderful teacher, he really knows how to engage with the children. I find that I don’t have the same skill, but I’m very good with the creatures.”

“Teaching isn’t for everyone. What brings you to the Ministry today?”

“I’ve just finished filing a permit to bring in a non-indigenous species of Bowtruckle into the country so we can study them. It’s going to be thrilling!”

Harry thought it sounded rather boring, knowing Bowtruckles just looked a lot like sticks, but he knew that Luna and her husband Rolf loved creatures of all kinds.

“And Harry, while I was at Hogwarts I got to spend so many hours with dear, sweet Neville. He’s absolutely thriving there and is quite busy. And he told me of these two precious first years, Muggleborn orphans. They’re both sorted into Ravenclaw and were found at an orphanage quite a lot like Tom Riddle was when he was a boy. And of course I thought of you. Maybe because I’ve been thinking about you so much that’s why you appeared to me here at the fountain! I’m so glad you did.”

“There are Muggleborn orphans at Hogwarts again? That’s really rare.”

“They’re not the only ones, there’s a fifth year Hufflepuff who’s an orphan as well. Neville was telling me that it’s been difficult finding them places to stay over the summer, especially now that there are three of them.”

Harry’s mind was whirling fast, dozens of half-formed ideas spinning about his brain. He needed to talk to Hermione.

“Luna, it was so nice to see you. Please be in touch. I have to go now.” He hugged her goodbye and placed a long kiss to each of her cheeks, which blushed red.

“Oh go on, Harry Potter. Go save the world some more.” She blew him a kiss and danced to the fireplace exits back to Muggle London.

Harry nearly ran to the Department of Magical Creature Relations (as Hermione had successfully renamed it her first year on the job). The receptionist waved him through, used to seeing the famous Harry Potter come to visit his best friend.

Hermione’s door was open and her dark, curly hair was barely visible over the tower of paperwork in front of her.

“Hermione, I’ve got the most wild and wonderful idea.”

She sat up and pushed the paperwork aside, “Good. I need to get up and move around. Help me walk around a while.”

Harry went around her desk and grabbed her hands to pull her to her feet.

“Don’t get pregnant, Harry.” Hermione groaned and arched her back. Harry heard it crack four times.

Harry laughed, “Seriously, I don’t think that’s a problem for me.” He pulled her arm through his own and held her hand tight. They started to take a lap around the department, and Harry finally spat out the thought that Luna had planted in his mind.

“I want to turn Grimmauld Place into a summer home for Muggleborn orphans or kids who can’t go to their scared or hateful Muggle families over the summer. If I had had a place like that and didn’t have to rely on the Dursleys, do you know how much that would have meant? Do you know what that would have meant for Tom Riddle?”

Hermione gasped, “Harry, you’re brilliant. You’re so brilliant. We could get caretakers, tutors, sponsor outings, all the things that Wizarding children get from their magical families. We could even have a day program where magical children in supportive Muggle families can come and have a place to talk about magic or take a summer class! That would have been invaluable to me, I would have had so much more knowledge of Magical culture and I wouldn’t have felt so left behind when it came to traditions. Molly has been helping a lot, and obviously we had Ron in school, but there’s still so much that we missed out on.”

Harry smiled wide, of course Hermione understood. She always understood. Not only had she liked his idea, but she had taken it and ran with it and he couldn’t help but swing her into a huge hug.

“Alright Potter, put me down!” But she was laughing and hugging him back and he knew, he just knew, that everything was going to be all right.


	6. Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

_Friday May 12th, 2006_

_Evening_

By the end of the workday on Friday, Harry still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Draco Malfoy. He was starting to get extremely irritated. Their boss told Harry only that Draco was sick, and he didn’t sound too pleased to be talking about Malfoy in the first place. Harry knew that many still held grudges against Malfoy, but he had thought the head of the DMLE wouldn’t be one of them.

He went home after work and finished packing the last of the things he was going to bring with him to the new flat. The boxes were only filled with books, clothes, kitchen supplies, and pictures, but he seemed to have more of all of those things than he remembered. The boxes were piled high in the living room, waiting to be shrunk down and lightened for moving day. He still hadn’t decided what furniture he was going to bring besides his bed and a bookshelf, but he figured he could always come back and pick out what he needed. The rest he was leaving for the children’s home. He had spent every non-work, non-packing hour on planning for the home, writing letters to Minerva, Neville, Luna, and even Ginny, as well as proposals to several Ministry departments. He hadn’t been so excited for a new project in many, many years.

If only he felt so secure about every aspect of his life.

Harry frowned, looking around at the boxes. He wasn’t even sure if he was still welcome to move into the flat that he and Draco had chosen together. His heart sank at the thought of not having the large windows, open concept kitchen, and plush, white carpets that had captured his attention weeks ago when they had toured the place. It had been so open and inviting and really felt like a place he could make his own memories in instead of sinking further and further into Sirius’.

Harry grabbed his pullover from the hook by the door and was Disapparating before he could talk himself out of it. He popped into an alley about three blocks from the building and made his way through the rain towards the door. He and Draco had talked weeks before about Draco going in the day before move-in to set security charms that would let the doors open to their touch and only allow welcome guests into the flat, and Harry felt the need to check to make sure that Draco hadn’t locked him out. It would be the easiest way to see if he was still welcome in Draco’s life.

The door from the street let him in with no problems and he hurried up the stairs to the third floor. The door to the flat also opened to his touch and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but then noticed the light in the kitchen was on. He stepped inside warily, wand drawn, and turned a corner fast and pointed his wand at a figure sitting on the ground with his back against a cupboard.

Of course it was Draco. With a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Oh, it’s you.” Harry put his wand back in his pocket.

“Surprised, Potter? Draco spat, words slurred. He clearly had been drinking for some time.

“No, just worried. Where have you been?”

“Nowhere.” Draco looked away and took another long drink of the firewhiskey. Harry went to his friend and took the bottle out of his hand. Draco somehow managed to look indignant and proper all at once, which made Harry laugh.

“How is it that you can look so posh while sprawled on the floor?”

“Malfoys don’t _sprawl_, Harry.”

Harry laughed, because Malfoy was definitely sprawling. His legs were wide and his shoulders slumped, even his perfect hair had fallen into his face. Harry sighed and got down on the floor next to Malfoy and took a long drag of the whiskey. He didn’t hand the bottle back.

“Draco. I’m sorry.”

Draco didn’t respond right away so Harry took another swig of the firewhiskey.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I was an arse.”

“I could have told you about the house.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to live in it. Especially for free on your inheritance. I just-” he broke off and took a shuddering breath, “I overreacted. I get- I get really defensive when it comes to my station in life. I had quite a lot of money you know, and a big house, and a family. Now I have none of that. I haven’t even had a home in years. My mother lives with friends. I couldn’t help but think about all of that when you casually mentioned that you had a house that you were just going to leave abandoned just so you could come live in some flat with your former worst enemy.”

“You were never my worst enemy, Draco. That was Tom Riddle’s job.”

Draco laughed at that, and the sound made Harry’s heart skip a beat. He took another pull of whiskey, hoping the burn would distract from the feelings he was trying so hard to ignore.

He blamed Hermione.

Harry sighed and drank even more of the firewhiskey before speaking again, “I hate that fucking house, Draco.” He ignored the shocked look on Draco’s face and continued, fueled by the firewhiskey and Draco’s honesty, “I fucking hate it. There’s a good reason why I referred to our flat as ‘home’ even though we don’t even live here yet. There’s nothing in that house but memories and hurt. I thought I would like to live there to feel closer to Sirius, but he hated that house, he was trapped there. Hurt there. We planned a war there. Dark magic was done there. I can’t live in it anymore. I’m packed and ready to move in, if you’ll still have me.”

Draco laughed, “Of course I’ll still have you. I mean- I don’t _have you_\- but yes, the plan is still on to move in. Tomorrow.”

Harry shifted in his spot on the floor and his leg brushed against Draco’s. His heart sped up and that swooping feeling was back in his stomach that he blamed on the firewhiskey. But then he turned to look at Draco and his face was so close to his, they were shoulder to shoulder and his eyes were so grey and the lock of hair from his forehead was in his eyes and Harry couldn’t help but drop his gaze to Draco’s lips, already parted and open as if expecting-

Draco cleared his throat and turned away, resting the back of his head against the cupboard again. Harry blinked and did the same. He was reading too much into things. He was letting Hermione get in his head. He needed to get under control again.

“So anyway, I’ve got a plan for the house. I’ve been working on it for a couple days with Hermione and Luna.”

“Lovegood?”

“It was her idea really. Or rather, she put the idea in my head. And I’ve already talked it over with Minerva.”

“McGonagall?”

“How many other Minervas do you know, Draco?” Harry laughed and Draco pulled the firewhiskey bottle back and drank from it. It was nearly gone. Harry didn’t realize how much he had drank.

“So what are you going to do?”

“About what?” His head was spinning.

“About the house, you drunk twat.” The sarcastic smirk was back on Draco’s face and Harry breathed a little easier. Nothing had changed, nothing would change. They continued to talk and drink for the next several hours, going over Harry’s ideas and deliberately _not_ touching.


	7. Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

_Saturday May 13th, 2006_

Moving day went about as smoothly as Harry had expected it, which is to say it went about as smooth as gravel.

He had finished the bottle of firewhiskey with Draco the night before while telling him about his plan for the house. To his immense pleasure, Draco had loved the idea, and seemed to go giddy at the thought of the Black family house being used to help Muggleborn children.

(The giddiness might have sprung from the copious amount of firewhiskey they had shared, but Harry was feeling optimistic).

So Saturday morning arrived with the doorbell ringing and Harry falling out of bed, hungover and cursing. He pulled on his rattiest jeans and a random jumper and stumbled down the stairs barefoot. He threw open the door with a glare and squinted against the sunlight.

“Good morning Harry. Sleep well?” Hermione smiled brightly and stepped past him, Ron following close behind and laughing. Harry groaned and shut the door behind them.

“You look shite, mate. Rough night? No, Hermione stop that.” He stepped around Harry to grab a box out of his wife’s hands, “You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things, the baby’s supposed to arrive literally any day now.”

“I’m pregnant Ron, I’m not dead.” She pointed her wand at the box in her husband’s arms, shrinking it down.

Ron stuck the box in his pocket and rolled his eyes, “I never said you were dead, I just want you to be careful. Don’t lift anything else.”

“I don’t need to lift anything, and neither do you. It’s called _Wingardium Leviosa, _Ronald. _Are you a wizard or not_?” She smirked and Harry laughed loudly, then clutched his head and moaned.

“Go take a potion, Harry. We can’t have you like this. You might want to grab shoes as well.”

“I’m expecting a couple more people to stop by, you’ll let them in won’t you?”

Hermione waved him off and he went back upstairs to the bathroom where his potions were kept. He found a Hangover Cure and downed it quickly, shivering as the wave of cold rushed through his head, taking the pain with it. He breathed deep and caught his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hair was a fright and the dark circles under his eyes stood out against his pale skin. Ron was right, he looked like hell. He splashed some water on his face and cast a breath freshening spell before running his fingers through his thick, unruly hair to try to calm it down a little. It still stuck up in the back as it always had.

“Your hair is an abomination.”

Harry whirled around. Draco was standing in the doorframe with his arms and ankles crossed, looking the very picture of grace.

“Not all of us can have perfect hair after a night of drinking. How the hell do you look so…” Harry waved a hand vaguely in Draco’s direction, which only made Draco’s smirk grow.

“Between you and me Harry, I feel as if I was trampled by a Hippogriff. But I still managed to look presentable today.”

“Do you need a Hangover Cure?”

“_Salazar_, yes.”

Harry rummaged through the cupboard over the sink until he found another vial of the dark blue potion and passed it to Draco. Their fingers brushed as he did and he nearly pulled his hand away but thought better of it. He was a Gryffindor after all. He couldn’t be scared off by a little skin contact.

_Not enough skin contact,_ his traitorous brain supplied. He shook his head then gestured for Draco to lead the way out of the bathroom and onto the landing.

“Where do you want to start? I have a handful of boxes up here, but the Black heirlooms that I kept are all downstairs.”

“Let’s get you moved out from the upper floors, then we can move downstairs. Weasley and Granger are working on your kitchen now.”

When Harry had first inherited the house the first thing he had done after respectfully disposing of the elf heads was clear out the attic and upper bedrooms. He didn’t need all of that space. He had started from the top of the house and worked his way down, eventually only having his bedroom and bath and a guest bedroom and bath on the second floor and the entire bottom floor furnished and kept up. He led the way to his bedroom, Draco on his heels and making him very nervous. No one ever came into his bedroom.

He pushed the door open and Draco let out a short laugh, “Red and gold? You are a walking cliché, Potter.”

Harry looked around at his room, which had been Sirius’ before. The red and gold hangings around the bed really did look a lot like the Hogwarts dorms, but the rest of the room was a charming, soothing cream, right down to the new carpet.

“It’s not that bad.”

“No, it’s surprisingly tasteful.” Draco walked over to the neat stack of boxes by the bed, “Is this all? And the bed?”

“Yes, that’s all from this whole floor, aside from what I need from the bathroom. I haven’t had any luck shrinking the bed, but the chest of drawers is in one of the boxes. The bed’s just stubborn.”

“The bed is old. Really old. I’d say well over three hundred years, knowing my mother’s family.” Draco walked over to it and touched the dark wood gently. The sight of Draco so near his bed made Harry’s mouth go dry.

“Does the age have something to do with it?”

“Were you asleep during every Charms class we ever had? Of course it matters. You have to adjust your phrasing and wand movement just a touch. Watch.” Draco mumbled under his breath and did a complicated but tight motion with his wand and the bed shrunk down to the size of a toaster. Draco did one more charm over the bed and all the boxes making them feather light, then wordlessly levitated them out of the door and to the stairs, “Coming, Harry?”

Harry shot a glare at the smug look on Draco’s face but was secretly astonished by his spellwork. Non-verbal spells hadn’t come easy to Harry, and Draco looked as if he could move mountains with just a flick of his eyebrow. He had so much control. Harry typically let his sheer power do the work for him, which was fine out in the field, but he needed to practice his control. He wondered if Draco would ever teach him a few things. He hoped he would.

Downstairs, Harry was happy to see, was almost completely packed away. Aside from the larger pieces of furniture, all of his books and kitchen supplies had made it into boxes and were safely stored either in a neat pile by the door or in Ron and Hermione’s bulging pockets. The couple was chatting happily with Ginny, who seemed to have just arrived.

“Hi Harry! And Malfoy, how do you do?” Ginny was always stiffly formal with Draco. Harry understood why but it made it hard to get all of his friends under one roof. Hermione had bullied Ron into making nice (well, nice enough), but Ginny had gone through a lot of trauma at Draco’s father’s hands and still struggled.

“Weasley, a pleasure.” Draco nodded at Ginny, then turned to Harry, “Where are those Black heirlooms you mentioned?”

Harry led the way into the study, which had been the tapestry room before the renovations. In the corner by an ancient desk was a glass cabinet filled with the remains of Sirius’ birthright that had passed Dark magic detection. It was mostly fine but gaudy jewelry and a few pieces of silver- a sugar bowl, a goblet, and a large plate were the notable pieces. All were emblazoned with the Black family crest or motto.

“Some of these are absolutely priceless, Harry,” Draco whispered, awe flooding his features, “I can’t believe I’m going to be so crass as to ask, but my mother would be so grateful for some of these, I’m pretty sure this ring was her mother’s.”

“By all means, Draco. It’s not crass to ask. It’s all yours, I have no claim to any of it. You can send her the whole bloody cabinet if you want to.”

“My mother lives with friends, she can’t take a cabinet. Just a couple of the jewelry pieces will do if it’s not an imposition.” Draco’s hands were trembling, and impulsively Harry grabbed them between his own, spinning Draco around to face him.

“It’s not an imposition, Draco. I wish you would stop that. I know how much she means to you. She saved my life. Send her the-” Harry froze, an idea suddenly forming, and he gripped Draco’s hands tighter, “Draco! I have an idea! Oh, it’s brilliant. I’m so brilliant.”

“What are you on about?” Draco’s eyes were fixed on their joined hands, which Harry dropped with a blush.

“Sorry.”

“Forget that, tell me why you’re suddenly brilliant. I can’t wait to witness such a momentous occasion.”

Harry ignored the insult and continued, “Your mother. She should live here. She should run the orphanage.”

Draco took a step back, “Harry, that just might work. She’s wonderful with children, she’s always wanted more. And you’ve never met a woman more organized, aside from Granger maybe. And she could live here?”

Harry nodded and a smile - a real smile - burst over Draco’s face before he grabbed Harry in a fierce embrace. It was nice, Draco was tall and warm and his arms were strong and Harry realized they had never hugged before. Draco smelled of sandalwood and parchment and Harry breathed deeply, comforted and somehow heated by the smell. Draco’s voice rumbled in his chest so close to Harry’s face and Harry thought that he might faint right then and there.

“You’re a genius, Potter! You really are, and I’m sorry that I ever implied otherwise.” He stepped back from the hug, but his hands remained on Harry’s shoulders.

“What’s all the shouting in here?” Ginny stuck her head around the doorframe and raised an eyebrow. Harry realized how close he and Draco were standing and took a step back, clearing his throat.

“I’ve just offered an idea to Draco about who should run this place when we get it off the ground. His mother.”

Ginny nodded as she entered the room fully and walked toward the two men, “It’s a good choice, she’s used to running charities right? I always see her name on the organizer lists when the Harpies do charity fundraisers. Nice one, Harry. An speaking of fundraisers, I pitched your project to the owner of the Harpies and she sounded rather enthused, so you might have our help too.” She placed a kiss on Harry’s cheek and Harry embraced her tightly with one arm and pressed a matching kiss to the top of her head.

Draco cleared his throat and stepped even further back, “Alright then, let’s move your things. We’re wasting time looking at old things.” And he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

“What was that about?” Ginny gave Harry a look.

“No idea. What’s that face?”

“You two were awfully close when I walked in.”

“Oh stuff it, Gin.”


	8. Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

_Friday May 19th, 2006_

Draco Malfoy as a roommate, it turned out, was extremely pleasant. He was neat, didn’t bring guests around, and he really enjoyed Harry’s cooking, making a point to tell him early and often how much he appreciated all the food Harry made. The two seemed well suited to be roommates and Harry should have been the happiest he’d ever been.

He was miserable.

Their flat had only one bathroom, and every single night for almost a week Harry had been treated to the sight of Draco-sodding-Malfoy emerging from his shower and heading to his room with a towel slung very, very low around his hips.

Treated? More like tortured.

Draco had filled out since Hogwarts, replacing his lean Seeker’s frame with a broad chest and an abdomen that looked carved out of marble. His back and shoulders were equally as compelling as his front and Harry was forced to watch every night as Draco’s silvery wet hair dripped around his face, a couple drops lingering on his shoulders and dripping down his back to disappear under the towel that barely hid his arse from view.

Harry had spent the last several years actively ignoring any sexual urges he had toward anyone, male or female, but this nightly torment was becoming too much for him to handle. He finally had to admit to himself that he found Draco Malfoy attractive.

Extremely attractive.

He supposed that he had known this for longer than a week, possibly since before they agreed to move in together, and possibly as far back as Hogwarts if he was being completely honest with himself. And it was hard not to be completely honest with himself when confronted with the object of his desires in close-up, high-definition detail every night.

He couldn’t tell Ginny. He couldn’t stand to hear her gloat. She was right all along, he was attracted to men and he had known it in his gut for years. He couldn’t tell Ron, he wouldn’t care about the liking-blokes-thing but he still held a small grudge against Malfoy for the bullying they faced in school. He wanted to tell Hermione, or Luna, or someone who would understand, but the idea of sharing such a secret, intimate part of himself with anyone scared him beyond all reason.

Finally, when lunchtime on Friday brought daydreams of running his tongue down Draco’s sternum and a raging erection that refused to go away, Harry made up his mind to talk to Hermione.

He strode to her office in record time, let himself in the door, and shouted at the sight that confronted him inside. Hermione was standing over a puddle of what looked like water, and she was dripping with sweat. The dark curls that framed her face were plastered to her skin and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She was bent at the waist, gripping the edge of the desk, and moaning with pain.

“Merlin, Hermione! You’re having a contraction!”

“I thought all morning that they were just false alarms, but my water broke about two minutes ago. Harry, help me. Please. She’s coming!”

Harry rushed into action, grabbing his best friend by the hand and transfiguring her desk chair into a wheelchair. He lowered her into it and instructed her to breathe deep and remain calm, which earned him a glare and a “You think I don’t know that, Potter?” On the way out the door Hermione was barking orders at the various department assistants, telling them to send owls to various other departments and companies. Harry turned to the nearest employee and begged him to send an owl to Ron, which made Hermione squeak.

“Oh Godric’s pants, I can’t believe I haven’t told Ron yet. Please someone grab my husband!” Hermione groaned and doubled over, breathing through another contraction.

“Those were way too close together, Hermione. You should have been at St. Mungo’s hours ago!”

“I had…too much…work to do.” Hermione said between deep breaths and Harry had to suppress a laugh. He wheeled her at full speed to the elevators, out through the atrium, and to the exit and the emergency Floo to the hospital. They were just about to reach the Floo when a hand came down hard on Harry’s shoulder. He spun around to snap at the person touching him, but it was Draco, looking tired and worried and beautiful. Harry was so relieved to see him he could have kissed him.

“She can’t use the Floo like this.” Draco spoke quickly, “We have to run.”

“Why?”

“Using the Floo or Apparating right now when the baby is so close could do a lot of damage, Harry. St. Mungo’s isn’t too far, we can run. I’ll run ahead and make sure the path is clear.”

Hermione whimpered but nodded when Harry looked to her for permission. He mouthed “Thank you” to Draco, who smiled and sprinted to the exit that led to the street, Harry hot on his heels.

Harry had walked to St. Mungo’s from the Ministry before, he knew it was about a twenty minute walk through crowds of people and waiting for lights to change. He was one of the only Aurors who preferred to walk over taking the Floo, he never liked using a Floo and was comfortable enough in Muggle London to blend in. He loved the noise, the people watching, the smells of curry and kebabs and petrol mingling and searing his nostrils. But there was no time to enjoy the city today, and Harry only barely had the presence of mind to remove his robes before running as fast as he could after Draco. The taller man was running ahead of them and shouting “Move! Move! Out of our way!” and pushing Muggles aside, clearing the way for Harry and Hermione, whose eyes were tightly closed in terror.

They pulled up to the hidden entrance to the hospital in record time, not pausing to make sure the coast was clear but passing straight into the lobby. Harry shouted for a nurse and luckily there were some perks to being the Boy-Who-Lived and the Girl-Who-Saved-The-Boy’s-Arse-And-Is-Screaming-In-Pain, for a team of nurses and doctors appeared immediately and hustled Hermione to a room, leaving Harry and Draco panting, sweating, and smiling in the waiting room.

Minutes later Ron Weasley ran in the room, red faced and grinning. He spotted Harry and Draco and slid to a stop in front of them, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You lot saved the day.” Ron grabbed Harry in a tight embrace, then turned to Draco. After a moment of hesitation he grabbed the blonde and hugged him as well. They separated and Draco cleared his throat.

“It was nothing, Weasley, really.”

Ron smiled, his crooked grin splitting his face, and he let out a huge sigh, “I’m going to be a father.”

Harry laughed, “So go in there, mate.”

His best friend ran back to the nurses’ station and they showed him into the back, then the waiting room was calm again. Harry and Draco sat heavily in the uncomfortable plastic chairs and looked at each other. Harry couldn’t help it, he started laughing. It took over his whole body, he was shaking head to toe and laughing, clutching his stomach and nearly falling out of his seat.

“Harry, what is wrong with you?”

Harry just kept laughing. A combination of the relief of making it to the hospital on time, Ron hugging Draco, and excitement over having a niece about to be born had him giddy with joy. Adrenaline coursed through his brain and he laughed and laughed until tears streaked down his face.

“Harry, what in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

Harry looked up at his roommate and laughed harder, and when Draco’s beautiful, marble-carved face cracked into a smile his heart soared. Draco finally began to laugh with him, a deep, low chuckle that resonated in Harry’s chest and heated his blood.

After a few minutes they settled down in their seats in companionable silence. Harry sighed, content and excited.

“You’re very lucky, Harry.”

“Am I?”

“Your friends care a lot about you. It’s nice.”

“We’ve been through a lot together,” Harry stilled, then looked at Draco. He was still smiling, but his smile had turned wistful and a little sad, “You have friends that care about you, too. And a mother who adores you.”

Draco shook his head, “My friends from school were mostly my friends because our fathers were friends. Pansy and I hardly speak at all anymore, and Greg doesn’t come around as much since Vince died. Theo and Blaise are good mates, but they aren’t my brothers. Granger and Weasley? They’re more than friends to you, they’re family.”

Harry sighed again and turned to face Draco head on, “You’re right. They’re my family. The only family I’ve ever had. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this little girl is going to mean to me. I never thought I’d have a niece. I never thought there would ever be a kid in my life.”

“Me neither. This might sound ridiculous and out of reach, but I hope your friends let me hold her. Do you think they will?”

Harry was struck breathless by the look in Draco’s eyes- desperation, hope, fear. “I’m sure they will. You got her here safely, after all.”

Draco let out a breath and smiled softly, “I’ve never held a baby before. I thought maybe I never would.”

“What about when you have your own kids? Aren’t you ever going to get married and settle down?” Harry asked before he could stop himself.

Draco shook his head and turned forward in his chair again, not looking at Harry. His voice was small when he finally spoke, “If by any chance I get married, having my own kid is still basically out of the question. Can’t exactly make a kid with two men, can you?”

There it was, out in the open. Draco was gay. Harry’s mind was racing, trying to figure out how to respond. Should he make a joke? Ignore it? After a long few seconds he decided to summon as much Gryffindor energy as possible and do something he had never done before.

“I’ve always felt exactly the same way.”

Draco snapped his head around and narrowed his eyes at him, “What part?”

“All of it, Draco.”

The two shared a significant look that Harry couldn’t describe, decipher, or disrupt. Draco opened his mouth as if to say something, but just then a whole herd of red-headed Weasleys entered into the waiting room making a ton of noise and looking around. Harry blinked and shot Draco a small smile. Draco nodded, then the two stood up and greeted Molly and the rest of the family. In the excitement of the day, any awkwardness between Draco and the Weasleys was long forgotten, and Molly hugged Draco as if he was her own. The look of surprise on his face made Harry laugh and his heart skip a beat.

It wasn’t much later that a shell-shocked Ron came around the corner, his hair was sticking straight up in the air and he had a far away look in his eye. Molly squeaked and ran to him.

“Everyone, Hermione has given birth to our daughter. Her name is Rose, and she’s perfect. Everyone is healthy and happy.”

Molly screamed and hugged her youngest son around his middle and the rest of the family cheered. Harry and Draco shared a smile.


	9. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

_Saturday May 20th, 2006 (very early morning)_

Draco and Harry finally stumbled back to their flat around two in the morning after several glasses of champagne and hours of passing around the baby and laughing with the Weasleys. To everyone’s delight, after the Weasleys and Harry had a turn holding her, Hermione had passed baby Rose to Draco without hesitation and Harry had immediately committed the look on Draco’s face to memory. His mouth had fallen open in shock and his eyes had watered and the care and tenderness in his features shone so brightly that Harry was nearly blinded by it.

Hermione sat back in her hospital bed, sweat making her curls stick to her face, smiling at her beautiful child. Rose had her mother’s dark skin and her father’s blue eyes and Harry fell in love the second she was in his arms. After Hermione had taken Rose back to nurse and sleep, Harry, Draco, and the Weasley family had shared several bottles of champagne and taken a lot of pictures. Harry put a drunk, giggling, and weepy Molly into the Floo with George and Arthur then turned to Draco. The taller man had his hand outstretched and a question in his eyes, so Harry took a deep breath before taking his hand and stepping into the fireplace.

Harry hated traveling by Floo, but the spinning and the soot faded into background noise as all of his senses focused on the hand in his. Draco’s fingers were long and bony and his grip was firm and warm but the contact didn’t last long for soon they were stumbling out into their living room and Draco had let go of Harry’s hand in order to brush soot off of his shoulders.

“What a day, huh?” Harry stuttered out awkwardly. Draco hummed in response but didn’t say anything, just left the room and made for the kitchen. Harry hesitated but followed.

Draco was pulling a bottle of red wine from the rack and inspecting it with too much intensity for a simple bottle of wine. He was clearly trying to distract himself. Harry leaned one hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Draco until the blonde finally spoke, “We don’t have to talk about it.” Harry wasn’t sure what he meant, so he remained silent. Draco continued, “We don’t have to talk about what we learned about each other in the hospital. It makes no difference. I simply ask that you keep my secret to yourself.”

“You don’t have to worry about me telling anyone, Draco. I didn’t tell anyone about me. Ginny knows, but that’s because she figured it out long before I did.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

Harry nodded, “She is. And I know you just said we don’t have to talk about it, but if you wanted to- I mean, we’re friends, right? You can talk to me about anything.”

“I don’t know if I can be friends with you anymore.”

The bottom of Harry’s stomach seemed to fall completely out as he processed what Draco was saying, “What are you talking about? Because I like blokes? Seems a little hypocritical, Draco.”

“Not because you like men. Or… maybe it is because you like men.”

“You’re not making any sense.” Harry stormed into the living room, and Draco followed, swearing under his breath.

“Look,” he grabbed Harry’s arm and swung him around to face him, “When I thought you liked girls it was bad enough, alright? I didn’t like the idea of seeing you with someone else, but so long as it was a girl I knew that at least you weren’t looking at me because I’m not your type. Now that I know-”

“Wait, Draco. Stop. What are you trying to say?” Harry looked down at where Draco’s hand was gripping his arm and tried to catch his breath, but his heart was racing so fast he wasn’t sure he could ever breathe again.

“I’m trying to say that I’m mad about you, and if I have to watch you bring other men home I’m going to lose my mind. Girls I could handle. I thought I could handle this, but it’s too much.” Draco’s grey eyes were shining with unshed tears and a cold grimace had taken over his face, “I won’t. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

Harry suddenly realized what he needed to do, what he had wanted to do for so much longer than he was willing to admit. He grabbed Draco by the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet his lips.

Draco’s lips were cold and chapped and unmoving against his as Harry kissed Draco for the first time. Harry opened his eyes and Draco was staring back at him, and suddenly self-conscious, Harry pulled back.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” he started backing up further into the living room but Draco hadn’t let go of his arm, “We can just forget about it. I like being your roommate, Draco.”

“Shut up Harry. Please, just shut up.” Draco’s voice was hollow and raw and Harry barely had time to blink before he was pulled to Draco’s chest and Draco’s mouth met his again.

Harry couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears and it was all he could do to hold on to Draco’s shoulders as the taller man tangled his hands in his hair and pulled him in tight. They fought for dominance over the kiss, Harry pulled a groan out of Draco when he raked his teeth over his lower lip, he then took advantage of Draco’s open, groaning mouth and thrust his tongue inside. Their tongues tangled and it was Harry’s turn to groan when Draco’s slid along his achingly slow.

As if Harry’s groan was the signal he was waiting for, Draco spun them around and pressed Harry firmly into the wall and ran his hands under Harry’s shirt, traced the muscles on his abdomen with one cool finger and making Harry shiver with anticipation. Harry was hard as a rock and with every inch Draco hiked his shirt up, Harry ground himself into Draco’s rapidly hardening erection that he could feel through the fabric of their trousers. He was hit with the uncontrollable urge to remove the barriers keeping them apart. He tore at the buttons on Draco’s shirt and pushed it off of his shoulders, exposing the chest he had been dreaming of licking all week long.

“Harry,” Draco moaned and Harry’s cock twitched almost painfully, “Harry please.”

Harry lightly pushed Draco away from him and ripped his shirt completely off, blushing as Draco’s gaze skimmed over every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” Draco murmured, and Harry’s blush deepened.

“I want you, Draco. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Draco grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and pulled him in for another searing kiss, this time allowing Harry to back him up against the wall. Both men fumbled at the other’s belts, Draco moved his mouth from Harry’s down to latch firmly at his neck, Harry groaned and threw his head back so fast he nearly knocked himself out on the wall. Draco chuckled and bit down at the junction of Harry’s neck and shoulder and Harry cursed and bucked his hips into Draco’s.

Draco was the first to have Harry’s belt free, so he dropped to his knees and pulled his trousers down to pool at his ankles. Harry stood there in his briefs and looked down at Draco kneeling at his feet and got suddenly very nervous

“I’ve never done this before,” Harry confessed, and Draco smirked and looped his thumbs in the waistband of Harry’s underwear.

“Just follow my lead,” and with that he pulled Harry free of the last scrap of fabric between them and swallowed him whole.

Harry let out a gasp and threw his head back again, his skull making contact with the wall with an alarmingly loud crack.

“Fuck, you alright, Harry?” Draco said, his breath warm against Harry’s cock.

Harry choked out, “I’m brilliant. Please don’t stop.”

Draco smirked again and went back to work, his mouth wet and hot around him, tongue swirling around his head, and Harry had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. He was lost in the sensations and couldn’t help but lace his fingers through the silken strands of Draco’s hair, tugging on them more firmly than he intended when Draco reached up a hand and cupped his balls.

“Shit, sorry,” but Draco only moaned and moved faster. Harry experimentally tried pulling at Draco’s hair on purpose, less sharply but more deliberately. Draco moaned louder and took him in deeper, and Harry chuckled.

“You like that?” Draco nodded and hummed in approval and the vibration took Harry to new heights. He swore and thrust into Draco’s mouth and the other man grabbed him by the backs of his thighs and took him even deeper, moving faster and faster and making sinful noises that drove Harry insane.

After only a couple more minutes Harry felt his climax building fast and he choked out, “I’m going to come.” Draco merely nodded, closed his eyes, and kept up the pace and soon the blood was rushing in his ears again and he gasped and shuddered as wave after wave of bliss washed over him. He fell over the edge with Draco’s name on his lips and his hand in Draco’s hair and couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to be.

“Fuck, Draco. That was… that was amazing.”

Draco released him with a pop and licked his lips and Harry realized that Draco must have swallowed every drop and that was nearly enough to make him hard again. Draco looked at Harry’s cock with admiration.

“Ready for another round?”

“No.” Draco’s eyes widened and Harry smirked, “It’s your turn.”

He helped Draco to his feet and pushed him toward his room.

-

_(Later)_

Harry really thought he was going to go mad when he started waxing poetical about how beautiful Draco looked in the moonlight.

The window in his bedroom allowed just enough light through that he could see the sleeping face of the man next to him, and the soft silver light had fallen just so across Draco’s marble features. Harry found himself entranced by the light blonde hairs of Draco’s eyelashes long against his cheeks, the bow of his upper lip, the tiny scar bisecting one of his eyebrows. He reached a finger to trace the scar and Draco’s silver eyes opened at contact. Harry drew his hand away but Draco caught it in one of his, trapping their entwined fingers between them.

“I thought it might be a dream,” Draco whispered.

“I’m right here,” Harry wiggled closer, “Will you help me with Grimmauld Place tomorrow? I need to take pictures and put a file together to pitch the idea to the Hogwarts governors. And I need to talk to your mother,” Harry trailed off, “Oh Godric, your mother. What is she going to think of us?”

Draco snorted and snuggled closer to Harry’s chest, “She doesn’t care. She’s very fond of you, you know? And I know she’ll want to do this project with you. As do I,” he trailed off, then his eyes snapped to Harry’s, “I’m in it for the long haul, if you’ll have me.”

“You’re not just talking about the orphanage?”

Draco smiled, “No, I’m talking about all of it. All of this.”

Harry smiled back, “Me too,” and captured Draco’s lips with his own.

They kissed for a long while, exploring each other’s mouths leisurely, content with the knowledge that they had all the time in the world.

When they separated again Harry was grinning ear to ear. It didn’t matter that they were former enemies, it didn’t matter that he still didn’t have a word for his sexuality, all that mattered is that Draco was at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you like it! And Merry Christmas to my lovely gift exchange partner! It was a pleasure writing for you.


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